


screw up

by themetgayla



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: 4x07 - Mr Santiago, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, implict mention of autistic amy, it sucks i think, my first peraltiago fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetgayla/pseuds/themetgayla
Summary: missing scene from 4x07 - mr santiago.Jake, Jake, where’s Jake?There’s no sign of him in the bullpen, which is the first glaring red flag. Anxiety washes over her full force, prickling sharply at her skin. She almost trips on her way to the break room, hands trembling as she’s met with empty chairs and the familiar aroma of pizza and Scully and Hitchcock’s body odour.Sheneedsto find him. The dread swirling at the pit of her stomach is verging on overwhelming, and she absolutely cannot spiral into a panic attack right now.





	screw up

**Author's Note:**

> welp so this is my first peraltiago fanfiction. i was watching 4x07 earlier and i was like,,, jake would not be so chill about being called a screw up. thus, i birthed this. i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (also i’m hella gay so writing straight fanfiction was hella weird i don’t know how i feel.)

He doesn’t feel like going back to Amy’s.

 

They got the daughter to confess, Victor turned out to be a half decent man (ish), and he no longer despises Thanksgiving quite so much now that he’s dating Amy. So he should be happy, right?

 

(Apparently not.)

 

Jake had offered to stay at the precinct to finish up the paperwork from the arrest before heading back to Amy’s for an apparently very fresh turkey — if her phone call about a live turkey had any truth to it. (He suspects it’s completely true.)

 

As he stares down at his scratchy chicken handwriting, he wishes he hadn’t offered to do this stupid paperwork. Victor’s right, he is a screw up. He’s sloppy, disorganised and irresponsible. He can’t even find the fucking binder he dumped on his desk hurriedly before locking up the perp.

 

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. Jake thumps his fist down on the table, grimacing as pain spreads through his veins. The messy paperwork glares up at him as tears blur in his eyes, stinging as he refuses to let himself blink. No, he deserves the pain.

 

 _Of course I’m not good enough for Amy. I didn’t even know to use dumb cascading tabs in my binder. What kind of screw up am I?_ Maybe Amy doesn’t even like him anyways, maybe she’s dating him just so she can dump him and shatter his heart for fun.

 

Jake tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it stays, choking him as his throat closes up. Standing abruptly, he drops his pen carelessly and flees the bullpen, making a beeline for the evidence lockup.

 

He’s not exactly sure why he’s going there; it reminds him too much of Amy, her apple and vanilla perfume, her soft pink lips, her— A small sob tumbles from his lips as he collapses against the wall, taking relief in the sharp pain that radiates through his skill as he lets his head crack back against cold, hard metal.

 

He deserves it. He deserves endless pain. _You’re such a screw up. Amy’s dad hates you, and now so does she. Screw up, screw up, screw up._ He punches the wall unconsciously as his chest tightens, the skin splitting immediately under the pressure.

 

Head swimming, Jake sinks to the floor, tears streaming down his pale cheeks as he cradles his bloody hand to his chest. _Screw up._

 

* * *

 

 Amy snaps her head round when she hears her front door close softly, brows furrowing as soon as she sees her dad shrugging his coat off, quite obviously alone. “Dad, where’s Jake?”

 

The way her dad’s head cocks to the side her so slightly tells her something is off. She’s still angry with him; who does he think he is to tell Jake he isn’t good enough for her? She decides who she deems good enough, and Jake most definitely is.

 

(But seriously, where is he?)

 

“He offered to stay at the precinct and do the paperwork. It’s better without him here anyways, honey.” He seems smug, and Amy’s just about had enough of him and his ancient attitude. Thanksgiving isn’t right without Jake, and she wants him here, right next to her, right now.

 

“No, dad, it’s not better without him. I love Jake, more than anyone I’ve ever loved. He makes me happy. You can’t make my decisions for me; grow up, it’s 2016.” She finishes with a heavy breath, cheeks flushed as she marches past her dad, grabbing her coat as she flings the door open.

 

She just wants to see Jake.

 

* * *

 

It takes her just ten minutes to get to the precinct, which is good, because something is definitely off. She can feel it in her bones, creeping up her neck, and it’s making her anxious.

 

It’s an uncomfortably familiar feeling, and it would be all too easy to let the panic consume her, eating away at her insides, but she _can’t._ She has to stay focused. For Jake.

 

 _Jake, Jake, where’s Jake?_ There’s no sign of him in the bullpen, which is the first glaring red flag. Anxiety washes over her full force, prickling sharply at her skin. She almost trips on her way to the break room, hands trembling as she’s met with empty chairs and the familiar aroma of pizza and Scully and Hitchcock’s body odour.

 

She _needs_ to find him. The dread swirling at the pit of her stomach is verging on overwhelming, and she absolutely cannot spiral into a panic attack right now.

 

The only other place Amy can think of is the evidence lock up. She escapes there on the rare (read: frequent) occasions that her senses get too overwhelmed by the noise of the bullpen, and Jake has had his fair share of breakdowns in there too. (Not to mention the sneaky make out sessions they manage to slot in between stacks of paperwork.)

 

Heart in her throat, Amy bursts into the room, focus zeroing in on Jake, who’s got his knees pulled tightly up to his chest, arms slung around his calves, rocking back and forth as his shoulders heave with the force of his sobs.

 

Amy’s by his side in a heartbeat, dropping to her knees as she clasps her boyfriend’s hand in hers and raises it up to her lips. She presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles and begins humming quietly, her soft voice filling the cold room.

 

(A year ago, she’d come home one day to the sight of Jake lying on the couch, earbuds jammed in, listening to Moonlight Sonata. He’d reluctantly admitted that it really calmed him down when he felt stressed or overwhelmed.

 

(Amy had promptly learnt to play the beautiful piece on the old grand piano in her living room. She’d surprised him with it on their anniversary; it had ended with them dancing slowly around the room to the song streaming from her phone — yes, she recorded it for him — tears drying on their cheeks as lips pressed together softly.))

 

Slowly, Jake’s breathing slows and his fingers tremble a fraction less than before. Amy let’s her lips quirk up into a hopeful smile — she managed to calm Jake down without spiralling like she sometimes does. (She counts it as a victory, and makes a mental note to put a sticker on her secret chart when she gets home.)

 

Jake looks up moments later, his eyes puffy and his cheeks wet. But he’s breathing steadily, and he’s no longer hyperventilating, so it’s something. “Hey,” Amy whispers quietly, her dark eyes shining as she gazes into the depths of her boyfriend’s eyes, gladly letting her shoulders relax as she’s comforted by his kind face.

 

“Thank you,” Jake whispers, his voice cracking softly at the end. “Why are you here?”

 

Amy’s heart breaks when she hears how small his voice sounds, fading into the empty room as she shifts to sit down next to him. Cautiously, she laces her hands with his, the knot of tension releasing slightly in her gut when he squeezes tightly and flicks his lips up into a quick smile.

 

“I needed to see you.” It’s all Amy offers, and Jake seems to accept it readily with a tiny nod. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

 

She knows that he won’t want to, because when does Jake Peralta ever like dealing with his emotions healthily? But Amy’s hopeful nonetheless; it’s scary to see him so fragile and broken.

 

“I—I just…” Jake hesitates, considering just getting up and leaving, but _no_ , Amy’s looking across at him with such overwhelming love shining in her eyes, and he finds himself wanting to tell her what’s wrong. He owes her that much, he thinks. And if she really does hate him then… he’ll figure it out.

 

(Or not.)

 

“What your dad said really rattled me. I let it consume me and I just overreacted, I guess.” He shrugs. Sure, he can be honest, but it doesn’t mean he has to be _overly_ explicit about how he really felt. He’s not lying, he’s just withholding information. (That’s fine though, right?)

 

“Oh my god, Jake, I’m so sorry. How dare he? I’ll speak to him about it, okay?” Amy’s horrified, her head swimming as she realises that this is all her fault. If she hadn’t invited her dad to her stupid Thanksgiving dinner she’d been so obsessed with having, none of this would have happened. She’d give up her chance to introduce her dad to Captain Holt in a heartbeat if it meant Jake was okay.

 

“It’s okay Ames, I’m alright now. I just had a few doubts about our relationship, but just having you here is reassuring.” Jake can see the panic burning in Amy’s eyes, and he just knows she’s blaming herself. (She always does, just like him.)

 

“No, Jake, it’s not okay. I love you so much baby, I swear. You’re the one for me, I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else. You’re my whole heart, darling, and I’ll never leave you.”

 

Jake _melts_ , because he’s always had a secret soft spot for Amy calling him “darling”. How could he ever have doubted her love for him? “I love you,” he mumbles, stroking a hand over her knuckles as she shifts impossibly closer into his side.

 

She shoots him a smile so blinding he thinks it momentarily cures his depression. “I love you too, darling.” Maybe everything will be okay.  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope that didn’t suck too much? and yes, i have a headcanon that amy calls jake “darling” and he secretly loves it. please let me know what you thought! (but pls be kind ahh.)


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